Poems by Vanessa Sgroi

 

NEW (07/31/04)

Duty Calls
 

The tones sound
now duty calls,
not sure of what
we'll face at all.

Turnouts donned
with lightning speed,
we're off to help
someone in need.

Sirens wail
we're drawing near
once again it's time
to face the fear.

Time and again
this is what we do,
just know when we do it,
we do it all for you.

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2004

 

 

NEW (07/31/04)

Fire and Flame

Heat and light
and energy.
Feeding ever feeding.

An insatiable hunger
fed by destruction,
and I grow.

A fearsome enemy in
battle, defeated by brave
and awesome souls.

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2004

 

 

NEW (07/31/04)

Brush Fire

In the distance,
the battle rages.
The crackle of flame
sings on the wind.
With light and heat,
and an endless desire,
the fire continues to feed.
Hoping for a long life.
Uncaring about all in its path.
Until, under relentless assault,
it reluctantly succumbs
to defeat.

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2004
 

 

 

In the End

Beneath the starry sky,
he knelt, the ground hard against his knees.
A disturbed look etched his sooty face
as red, weary eyes stared at nothing.

The bitter bouquet of smoke
carried heavily on the wind,
a simple reminder of recent destruction
and living angry flame.

Compelled into motion, he--the reluctant hero--
limped forward slowly,
arm extended in a
mute gesture of compassion.

He nodded soberly
at their words of thanks,
and then was all but done in
by a child's kiss on his cheek.

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2004

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day of Disaster

"What just happened here?"
came the urgent cries
as the firemen carefully
picked themselves up.

Ears ringing
and eyes stinging,
they gazed upon
the fury of the fire.

The once-handsome building now
reduced to a smoldering mountain
of brick, ash, and embers--
leveled by the force of the explosion.

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2004

 

 

 Firefighter haiku

Thick, gray smoke and heat
Orange red flames greedily racing
firefighters stand strong

_________________

Ness
 

 

After the Flame

Pale beneath the soot and grit,
weariness resting hard upon his shoulders.
Red, tired, aching eyes
stare at what is left.
 

Sweat trickles down
from beneath the helmet
while steam continues to rise
from well-worn turnouts.

The dark night full of shouts,
yells, and flashing lights.
Another battle won
just barely.


 

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2004
 

 

*Click on the fire engine to send Ness feedback

 

 

 

Stories by Vanessa